


Klance Shorts

by JustLikeCatsDoISuppose



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Cute, Fluff, M/M, Photographer!Keith, minor language
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-11
Updated: 2017-12-05
Packaged: 2018-12-13 21:24:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11768688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustLikeCatsDoISuppose/pseuds/JustLikeCatsDoISuppose
Summary: A small collection of  any oneshots I write.  Fluff owns my soul, so if you'd like some of that here you go!





	1. f/64

**Author's Note:**

> I originally titled this Too Much Technical Indulgence, because that's what it is; I regret nothing. In short: Keith is a photography major in university, and he sees an extremely pretty boy on his day off from classes. That's it. It's short. It's cute. I hope you like it (ﾉ^ヮ^)ﾉ*:・ﾟ✧

It was probably fine.  

Technically, it was stalking, but.  It was probably fine.  

Keith shifted his elbows on the cool cement, silently thanking whatever deity controlled walls that- well, that was just ridiculous, but this wall was just the  _ perfect _ height; it had to be divine intervention of some sort.  

It was a sunny day.  It was a  _ hot _ day.  Keith rubbed his left thumb over the grip lines on the lens, grimacing slightly at the way it stuck with sweat.  He adjusted the zoom until only half of the boy’s torso was in the frame -- this centered him a little too much, so Keith shifted a little to the left, so the boy’s head was in the upper right and his body fell along the 3x3 grid that seemed burned into Keith’s retinas at this point.  

Keith honestly hadn’t expected to take any pictures that day -- at least, nothing with a prep time under thirty seconds.  It was a day off -- no shoots scheduled, no class -- just a sunny Saturday he’d been planning to spend reading at a cafe or something equally tumblr-worthy and relaxing.  He brought his average-yet-loveable DSLR more for the comfort of having a camera around if something absolutely incredible occurred than anything else.  And was he glad he did.

Because this boy was incredible.  Or rather, this boy’s light, and the way he interacted with it, was incredible.  This was studio-level shit, not the sort of soft-toned equilibrium that he usually looked for in natural light.  It was late afternoon, granted, and midday had long since passed, leaving the long shadows and orange glow of evening to stretch long across everything they touched.  Japanese Maples lined the semi-circular courtyard, and the sun was setting perpendicularly to the boy, casting shadows across his face at a perfect angle for loop lighting.  

Keith was standing behind the wall that ran across the straight section of the semicircle, near the wooden gate.  He glanced at the meter along the bottom of his viewfinder’s display, noting the fact that the cursor rested two stops underexposed.  The shutter speed was set to 1/200, as the boy was not still.  He moved as he listened to the girl across the table from him speak, leaning his right elbow on the table and his chin on his palm.  He was at about a 30 degree angle from looking Keith in the eye, facing slightly to Keith’s left so that he got a full view of that loop and the glow of his tan skin against the sunlight, his fingers curled against the cheek that Keith couldn’t see as well.  Keith was thankful for this, as it put the boy’s hand slightly out of view and allowed the photograph to focus on his face, the soft curve of his lips and the hood of his eyes, the occasional bend of his eyebrows.  

Every now and then he’d shift, or say something, which was what had prompted Keith to go for 1/200 in the first place.  His aperture was set to f/5.6, and his ISO was at 100.  He’d been hoping to catch shallow depth of field, and it wasn’t particularly bright in the courtyard, so he’d stopped down to f/3.5 -- as far as his lens went; it wasn’t exactly the  _ best  _ one he owned -- and proceeded to zoom in, bumping the aperture to f/5.6.  There was no way he was messing with the composition of the photograph -- it was perfect, at this point, what with the boy looking into the empty space in the photograph, filled with blurry reds and oranges from the Japanese Maples in the sunlight.  The boy still took up a good ⅔ of the frame, but the space to the left was in part due to Keith’s professor always saying that a subject should be looking into the picture, not out of it.  And he’d been right.  

Keith decided that he wanted the wiggle room 1/200 seconds gave him to get a sharp image, one that would be a contradiction in the way the shadows cut across the boy’s skin, but soft light on the rest of his face, and a sharpened details on his face, but a blurred background.  So he moved his face back from his camera to change the ISO to 200 instead.  When he looked back into the viewfinder, the meter read only ⅔ of a stop underexposed, and Keith liked the definition that he got from slightly darker pictures anyway -- especially ones with details carved by shadows (and cheekbones that could cut a man, god).  

Satisfied that everything was as good as he was going to get it, Keith took a steadying breath, waiting for the right moment.  The boy was talking -- definitely no good, so Keith waited.  A few seconds later he paused, presumably to listen to the girl across from him, and Keith pressed the button halfway to let the autofocus work its magic before snapping a picture.  The boy’s mouth was open slightly, both eyebrows raised in what Keith interpreted as surprise.  One quickly fell as his mouth curled into a smirk, earning a shove from his company.  His head raised off of his hand and his eyes crinkled as he laughed -- Keith took a picture.  He put his head back onto his palm, still grinning, and Keith took a picture.  The girl began to speak again -- Keith couldn’t hear her words, though he heard her voice.  He moved the camera to the right to put the boy back in the frame and took  picture.  

As the girl spoke, the boy’s features began to soften -- his eyebrows sinking down and his smile dimming until it was just as soft as his surroundings, teeth peeking out as sharply as the shadows.  Keith took what was undoubtedly his favorite photograph of the bunch.  

And the boy’s eyes drifted from the girl, to something beside her, and then further and further until they were looking right down Keith’s lens, the smile not quite gone from his face but noticeably diminished, leaving his expression content and unconcerned.  Keith took a picture.  

One of the boy’s eyebrows arched, and he blinked, and Keith took a picture before remembering that this was probably fine, as long as he didn’t get caught.  And he was caught.  

He looked up from the camera only to lock eyes with the boy, who was now smirking slightly.  Keith had not been expecting that.  As he fish-mouthed for some way to explain himself when the boy couldn’t even hear him, the boy winked, smirk stretching further across his cheeks.  Keith just stared, unsure of what to do with his mouth or his gaze or  _ himself _ , and the boy’s shoulders shook with a chuckle.  

Keith pulled his camera off of the godly wall and ran.  


	2. Don't Trust Pidge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> K. So. It's been a while, and I intend to make this a spot to put all sorts of dribbles and short things. This one is very informal, and even after 4 years, my Spanish is terrible, and as-per-usual, the translations are annoyingly different in either language. So. I hope you enjoy it :) in all its glory.

“You don’t know what they are?!”

“I wasn’t exactly exposed to much culture as an orphan in the desert, sorry Pidge.”

Her shoulders lowered in guilt, a little. “Sorry -- it’s not unlikely, it’s just… abnormal.”

Keith sighed as she straightened up, beaming at him.

“Do you know what would make Lance super annoyed?”

Keith rolled his eyes. “Me?”

“No, no,” Pidge shook her head. Then she stopped. “I mean, yes, but. This is very specific.”

Keith couldn’t see past the glint in her glasses to tell if there was a glint in her eye, and this was ridiculous, but… it had been a long movement. They’d had to fend off three surprise attacks from the Galra while trying to figure out what the hell to do about Lotor, and he’d had about four serious talks about his… rash actions. Two were from Shiro. One was from Hunk. One was from Lance himself, but Allura just hugged him, rather uncharacteristically. The fear in Pidge’s eyes had been the most influential.

It had all been… long. And now that the opportunity to return at least two of his relationships to normalcy had appeared, Keith couldn’t help but jump.

“And what do you have in mind?”

***

It had been a long movement, and Lance’s brain felt like his limbs after a high-level gladiator spar. Being stretched out on Hunk’s lap in the common room helped a little, yes, but Lance was too tired to do anything and too restless to sleep, staring up at the ceiling.

He was thus positioned when footsteps approached him. He didn’t look up, but a small, awake part of him responded with curiosity.

“Hey there guys. How’s it goin’?”

Pidge.

“Fine, we’ve just been, ya know. Sitting.” Hunk looked down at Lance. “Laying down. You?”

“Oh we’re great. In fact, Keith had something to tell Lance.”

Lance’s eyebrows brushed some of the hair splayed across his forehead. Keith had already apologized to them all, and for once everything seemed semi-normal between all of them.

A shadow fell over his vision, and Lance’s gaze snapped to Keith’s face looming over him, completely devoid of expression. His brows pinched slightly in concentration, and he opened his mouth slowly, stumbling through the syllables that came out of it.

“Eres tan bueno como las mamacitas en las telenovelas que me gustan.”

Lance must admit, it took him a few moments to react. First, he had to decipher Keith’s terrible pronunciation into legitimate words, and then he had to process the fact that Keith was speaking Spanish to him, and then he could begin to understand what had been said -- and then he had to sit up, because there was spit in his lungs he’d gasped so hard.

As he sat there, hacking up a storm beside Hunk, Pidge’s all-knowing cackles pervaded the room.

When he had finally cleared his throat (mostly), Lance whipped his head around to stare at Keith’s amused face in absolute shock.

“You… what?” he whispered, locking eyes with Pidge. Visible tears were running down her cheeks.

“Did he say what I think he just said?” Hunk asked, and Lance’s gape was enough of an answer.

“You heard me,” Keith said, smug. He crossed his arms and tilted his chin up, smirking as if he expected a retaliation.

“You think I’m… Keith what the fuck.”

Confusion and worry flashed in Keith’s eyes, and his head dropped a bit.

“I didn’t mean to actually make you angry,” he explained, stony demeanour slipping away much more quickly than usual.

Lance responded quickly. “I’m not- no, I’m not angry, just. Very confused. Do you actually…”

Keith frowned. “No, I don’t actually think that -- Pidge, stop laughing, he’s upset -- I thought you’d find it funny.”

Indignance swelled in Lance’s stomach. “What’chu mean you don’t actually think that?! I’ve got any one of those bitches topped any day of the week. Except for maybe Mónica from that one that came out every sunday, she was sweeee-” Lance stopped. Keith had never looked so puzzled, and Pidge had never laughed so hard. Lance began to put the pieces together.

“Keith, tell me, in English, what you just said to me.”

Keith raised an eyebrow. “You’re as dramatic as the girls from a telenovela. Pidge was teasing me because I didn’t know what they- Lance?”

It was Lance’s turn to laugh.

“You-” he wheezed, “you thought I was the dramatic one?”

An exasperated look crossed Keith’s face. “What did I actually say?”

“I can’t believe you actually fell for it!” Pidge piped up, wiping at her eyes with her glasses resting on her forehead.

“What did I say.”

Lance smirked. Pushing himself up, he stood with a flourish, sauntering over to Keith and leaning into his space, slinging an arm around his shoulders.

He let his gaze travel up and down Keith’s body, smirking suggestively. Keith’s cheeks were a light pink.

“You’re as sexy as the women in the telenovelas I like.”

He’d never heard Keith stutter before. “I-uh, did I… say that?” He’d never seen Keith this red before.

Lance smirked in lieu of a response. Keith rounded on Pidge, chasing her in a circle around the room as Lance and Hunk giggled. Maybe some things could return to normal after all.


End file.
